


A Million Miles and I Finally Found You

by Loz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Reunions, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loz/pseuds/Loz
Summary: When Scott sees Stiles again for the first time, he tilts his head to the side and murmurs, “Stiles?” like his name’s a word he thought he knew the meaning to once but he’s forgotten.





	A Million Miles and I Finally Found You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alexenglish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/gifts).



> Happy holidays <3 
> 
> Title from Autoheart's "Before You Came".

When Scott sees Stiles again for the first time, he tilts his head to the side and murmurs, “Stiles?” like his name’s a word he thought he knew the meaning to once but he’s forgotten. 

“It’s me. It’s good to see you, Scott.” 

Stiles means it, can’t truly explain how true it is, in the depths of him. How he’s dreamed about seeing Scott’s kind eyes and gentle smile in more than a photograph. It’s been ten years, and sometimes that feels like a day, and others like a lifetime. 

“You too. You’ve changed,” Scott says.

“Not much.”

Scott looks him over once more, shrugs a shoulder. “No, I guess not.”

That’s why Scott was his best friend, growing up. Why Stiles made him an imaginary friend when he moved away, would tell all his secrets to the figment because he knew the real version wouldn’t judge him. Because Scott always believed him when he said he was a boy even when he aunt insisted he stop scrabbling for attention and his dad was convinced he was going through a phase. Because Scott doesn’t need to feel the same as someone to understand the importance of their emotions. 

“Come in,” Scott says, pulling his door wide. “You want something to drink? Eat? I may’ve overdone it with the snacks.”

“Aww, you remembered that I eat everything within a 10 foot radius.”

“I remembered everything,” Scott says, hushed like he thinks he shouldn’t have said it. He glances at Stiles, coy, as Stiles pretends to look around his house, but really stares at Scott kitty-cornered. “I’ll get you some water.”

Stiles watches his back as he leaves, allows himself a fleeting glance at his ass. Scott has grown into the beautiful man Stiles always thought he would. He’s a hair shorter than Stiles, a smidgen wider in the torso, with a trim waist and hips that Stiles could imagine holding between his hands. He was always a cute kid, Stiles frequently declared him the prettiest between them to the constant vexation of all the adults who knew them, and he’s retained that beauty but also gained a masculinity that has Stiles’ heart beating triple-time. 

Things are awkward for a while as they make idle chit-chat, catch each other up since they last messaged over Facebook. Stiles realizes how little they’ve actually shared of their lives since they reconnected – how much there is to learn again. But he wants to know, wants to be Scott’s friend, even if they could never have what they did from the ages of three to thirteen. 

“Can I ask you something?” Scott asks after a couple of hours. He’s frowning slightly and there’s a small shake in his voice.

“Why didn’t I tell you I transitioned?” Stiles asks, checks.

Scott nods, looking relieved. “You weren’t worried, were you?”

“Of course I was, Scotty. It’s a lot to take in, for most people. I didn’t wanna spring it on you, but I didn’t know how to tell you either.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry. And if I say something or do something wrong, I want you to tell me so I can fix my mistakes.”

Stiles pats Scott’s shoulder, like he used to when they were younger, gives him a firm squeeze. “You know me and my caustic personality. When am I ever averse to criticizing?”

After that, the conversation flows easier and when they start reminiscing, the hours fly by. Before he knows it, Stiles is saying goodnight and promising to meet up with Scott the next day. He has a fizzle of happy anticipation in his belly, a settled contentedness even deeper down. 

*

Two weeks go by and Scott and Stiles become inseparable once more. It isn’t because they agree on everything: they don’t. Or even that they have similar world views: Scott has the perspective Stiles wishes he could have. But being with Scott fills Stiles with warmth. They can talk for hours or they can sit in silence and Stiles never feels like he’s having to put on a façade or pretend to be someone he’s not. If anything, he frequently feels like the best version of himself.

It would be perfect, but Stiles is supposed to fly back to DC in another two weeks and he’s pretty sure he won’t summon the courage to tell Scott how he feels about him within that time. He knows Scott can’t reciprocate anyway, so it’d be a situation where he tells him because he wants him to know: that someone has his back forever and always, that he’s needed and wanted in the world even when it doesn’t feel like it.

Stiles is finally making Scott watch _Star Wars: A New Hope_ like he threatened when they were ten. Stiles still doesn’t know how Scott successfully dodged all this time, but he did, and Stiles is trying not to talk over it, giving him facts or pre-empting emotional reactions, but it’s challenging. He instinctively nudges into Scott before any and all major scenes and Scott leans back, but not like he’s trying to shove him away, more like he’s trying to keep the contact going. 

“This is actually pretty cool,” Scott intones, and if Stiles didn’t know he was teasing, he’d probably be dead by now.

“Everything I like is the best, so jot that down.”

“Oh yeah, your taste is unparalleled.”

“It is! I like you, don’t I?”

“I’m suddenly understanding how you were captain of your high school debate team.”

They miss the destruction of Alderaan, but it’s worth it to Stiles to see Scott’s blinding grin. Plus, rewind was invented for a reason.

After the movie, Scott slumps against his side, rests his head on his shoulder, nuzzling into it. Stiles thinks his heart might have stopped. 

“We’re watching the next one, right?”

Stiles wants to, but he’ll have to get up to set it up and this moment feels too precious to break. He doesn’t move a muscle, even regulates his breathing so it’s softer, less likely to jar Scott.

“So you liked it?”

“I grudgingly admit it was awesome,” Scott confirms. “Plus, Luke and Leia make a really cute couple.”

“Scott, no. Scotty absolutely not. There is no way you don’t know why that’s a terrible idea.”

Scott giggles, the sound reverberating through the both of them. “You’re right, I’m messing with you. I prefer Luke and Han anyway.”

“Oh, you’re one of those rare straight dudes who’s okay with slash. Good to know.”

“No. Sorry to disillusion you, but I’m bi.”

Stiles doesn’t flail like he wants to because Scott’s a solid heat against his side. He doesn’t do a comical double-take. He files that information away and luxuriates in five more minutes of best friend snuggles, before reluctantly grabbing the next blu-ray while Scott makes popcorn.

*

“Keep in touch,” Scott commands at the airport. He’s antsier than Stiles has ever seen him, more forceful too. “I mean it. Don’t do what you did last time and promise to call but don’t. I want you hounding me over all the platforms we share, just as much as I’ll be hounding you. I want a minimum of three simultaneous conversations and the dumbest memes you can find.”

Stiles wraps him in a hug, listens to his rocketing heartbeat, in syncopation with his own. “You got it, buddy. I’ll message you hourly reports of the Stiles Variety Show.”

Stiles tries not to look back when he walks down the ramp to the boarding gate, but he glances over his shoulder and sees a dejected Scott standing with one hand wrapped around his opposite arm, glassy eyes and a set mouth. Scott looks how Stiles feels. It shouldn’t be a comfort, but it kind of is.

*

These are the words that mean ‘I love you’: you got me, you’re my best friend, I need you, I miss you. 

Stiles tries to say it the simpler more direct way, but the word ‘love’ gets lodged in his throat, refuses to surface. So, he says it however he can, in small moments, with little gestures, and hopes Scott knows. He sends him his weirdest finds via Amazon, creates a youtube playlist solely for him, and creates elaborate inside joke memes.

Scott is sunshine smiles whenever they video chat. He hasn’t lost his optimism nor enthusiasm and will tell Stiles excitedly about his week. He asks the right questions to get the kinds of in depth answers he wants, waits and watches Stiles carefully when he replies. Stiles knows exactly what he’s doing, doesn’t have the heart to tell him not to bother – to explain that it’s effort he doesn’t need to be making. The only truth Stiles is trying to conceal from Scott is how empty he feels when they’re apart.

“I’ve saved up some money,” Scott says one night, hesitant. “Thought it’d be good to travel this fine country of ours.”

“Is this your roundabout way of asking if I have room, because yes I do, get your ass over here immediately,” Stiles yells. He bounces in his seat. “How long can you stay?”

“A week, maybe two.”

“That’s better than nothing.”

Stiles is trying not to get his hopes up, but part of him keeps whispering that Scott told him he was bi for a reason, that Scott’s visibly as attached as he is, that Scott’s purposely saved up just so they can be in the same space again. Maybe, after all these years of being misunderstood and misgendered and miserable, Stiles has gotten a lucky break and finally found his person again. 

They hug at the airport, an embrace that doesn’t feel quite long enough. Stiles takes Scott’s bags before he makes a fool of himself, blinks when he notices how disappointed Scott looks. He shifts the bags to one hand and shoulder, takes Scott’s hand in his own. Scott smiles at him and for that one moment, time stops. All Stiles can feel is Scott’s thumb stroking his, all he can see is the delight in Scott’s eyes, all he can hear is his own heart thumping at a hundred miles an hour. 

*

The drive to Stiles’ apartment is excruciatingly long, but Stiles doesn’t want this conversation when he can’t gaze at Scott, doesn’t want to rush. Once they’re inside and the bags have been put down, drinks have been brought and they’re settled on the couch, Stiles is jittery. He doesn’t know how to do this. He’s never been very suave, has only had two real relationships before that honestly he fell into by accident – and one was when he hadn’t truly come out yet, so even though he’d never say it doesn’t count, it’s not the _same_. 

“Can I tell you something I never told anyone before?” Scott asks, quiet. 

“You can tell me anything, Scott,” Stiles replies, trying not to show that he’s horrified Scott felt the need to ask. 

“I had the biggest crush on my best friend, growing up. I always thought we’d be each other’s first kiss, used to picture us getting married. They were scenes I’d replay in my mind over and over again, because I was so angry I never said anything.” Scott takes a breath, looks at Stiles from beneath his lashes. “I’m not gonna lie, the scenes have changed. I always saw you how you used to be and you’re different. So am I. But _this_ hasn’t changed. I loved you then and I love you now.”

Stiles caresses Scott’s jaw, tries to fathom how he could be so lucky to find someone like Scott not only once, but twice in his life. Hopes he spends forever finding him again and again, though never because he’s been lost. 

“I love you too. I always have.”

When they kiss, Stiles has the dual sensations of coming home and embarking on a new adventure. Scott’s lips are soft and his kisses are confident. He cradles Stiles’ head and tilts him where he wants him, strokes his fingers into the fine hair at the back of Stiles’ neck. 

When Stiles sees Scott again for the first time after kissing him, he tilts his head to the side and murmurs, “Scotty,” like his name’s a gift, a sacred word only he can say, one he’ll be murmuring forever.


End file.
